


The second part of our story was a march into the unknown

by soulhead



Series: Footage de gueule [11]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Magical Realism, for a time at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-07-08 18:58:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19874473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulhead/pseuds/soulhead
Summary: But the first part was everything we could have ever dreamed of.Or, Trent's never been part of this world, not really and he was happy to just live his life on his own. But then, the captain of Liverpool FC appears in his life and everything changes. At first for the better and then...Then he doesn't know anymore.





	1. Daybreak

Trent never really understood humans, nor did he really try to. For most of his short life, he was content living in his own world, leading his little life. Then, Jordan arrived and nothing was ever simple anymore.

Nothing foresaw this meeting and the ramifications it would have on his destiny and until their first handshake, Trent's life was set to follow a clear and straight-forward path only marked by a few milestones.

  
The first one is when Trent understands that he isn't _normal_. For as long as his still growing brain could manage to remember, his father lulled him to sleep with the same stories : ones of a special kind of humans whose roots never really left Nature and who bore no name. Without fault, every evening, his father would share with him tales of those people's ability to see the very soul of their counterparts. No one could explain it, could tell who gifted them this ability : it just was. His dad would narrate in great details legends about how those people gathered together and used their knowledge to help humanity through the ages, without ever being noticed. Trent, captured by those stories, would listen without missing a single word. And then, when he has to use all five of his left hand's fingers to show how old he is, he understands. His father isn't narrating him fairy tales, he's recounting the story of his people. Finally, he sees the shimmering auras surrounding people for what they are : their soul, bared and exposed for him to see.

It's a few moon cycles later that he also starts to understand that even among his kind, he isn't part of the norm. He gets the first inkling thanks to the frown appearing systematically on his mother's face when she observes him discussing for long hours with the daisies in their garden.

“You have a gift to communicate with Nature like no one else in our lineage ever had”, her grandmother explained him soon after that.

She can't be right through, he thinks. People just aren't listening well enough. A world where his ability is an unique gift, even in his family, would seems too cruel for him. It would mean that no matter what, people could stay deaf to Nature : to the gentle and soothing humming of the golden wheat fields when morning rises or even to the stupid jokes of cauliflowers. It would be unfair !

Yes, if humans tried hard enough, they would possess the same ability he did, he was sure of it. After all, Nature communicates in a way that is easy to understand.

All that trees and plants asked was to grow their roots in a soil rich of the right kind of nutriments, for the sun to brush his rays on their leaves just long enough for them to thrive. They were easy to read : their leaves would fall or turn yellow when something was amiss in their environment or their growth would be stunted.

They weren't like he, this young boy who was constantly alternating between the need to explore freely the world around him and yet who seeked the comfort of his parents. They weren't either like his cousins who refused to play with him, complaining he was to competitive, too brash. The daisies in his backyard accepted him for what he was, they didn't judge. Even the sunflowers of Miss Stevensson, the old lady down the corner of the street who looked at him disapprovingly, always waved him good morning when he ran by them on his way to catch the school-bus.

Yes, Nature and everything that constituted it were easier to understand than most humans.

And so, he start to use Nature's kindness to shield himself from the harshness of the world around him. His childhood memories are filled with time spent in his family's house garden : talking and playing among Nature and avoiding other kids of his age.

Those were simpler times, when he could have the luxury of not worrying about his life. In his stead, his parents wondered about what would happen to their bright youngest son, worrying about how he would react when he'll inevitably have to quit his haven to discover pre-school.

But inevitably, he's no older than 6 when he learns that it isn't _cool_ of him to know the difference between the various kinds of Hedysarum. It isn't cool either to know how vital this information is in the brewing of an antidote against a medusa's stung as he read it in one of his grandmother's book. Young boys of his age don't arrive late to school one morning out of two because they got distracted by the beautiful canvas the clouds were forming in the sky. No, they arrive late because they didn't hear their alarm clock on time, that was what young, _normal, cool_ boys did.

It is needless to say that there's a lot of things about him that aren't cool.

His ego, fragile and young as it can be during childhood, takes a blow during the first month of his schooling. His throat frequently burns with the thought of his inability to fit in and for a time his stomach seems accustomed by the flips flops it does inside his belly.

His connection with Nature becomes then a secret between him and his family. At the age of 7, he learns that if Nature can be a shield to block out the nastiness of his classmates, his talent in football can be a sword he can wield against them.

Football is easy. His counterparts all have functions. They defend, they attack and they do a myriads of other things but none of them involves their auras turning into an angry mess of judgments when they cross his path.

Years pass and he starts to find his place in this world as he approaches his teenagehood. From this time-frame, he remembers mostly the evenings he spent in the company of his grandmother. He recalls the sweetness of her tone when she explained him that his connection with Nature was something to be protected, to be cheered and how no tears should be sheds for the mockeries of his classmates.

To this day, her grandmother stays the one person who taught him the most about who he really was and who other people were.

With the naivety his age at the time commanded, he started to want to understand more of his lineage. What were they ? Druids, wiccans, aliens ?

His grandmother had snickered at his suggestions before denying them.

No, they weren't. They were something wilder, something that could not be dictated by the rules and the folklore of druidism or witchcraft. Nature cared little for human communities and thus it is why Nature gave their kind no name, no tradition and no rule to follow. Nature only gave them the knowledge of its ways and he'll learns about it too, when he'll be old enough.

And he does, he goes by his teenagehood and he learns so much : how to mix Jarrin root, thistles branches and a myriads of other ingredients together to create a healing balm, how to carve talismans out of trees but also how to aim better when shooting corners, how he loves nothing more than to push into the opposition's half during football matches. The knowledge he gains seems limitless, except when it comes to humans. Their auras bore him, always different from one another but dull and forgettable. He doesn't learn a single thing about them, they still stay a complete mystery to them, one that he tolerates mostly for the sake of football.

And so, while his voice deepens and his classmates start to develops relationships, he stays the same boy, lost deep in his own world and only ever understood when surrounded by Nature.

But then, he meet him.

***

Jordan is...

Jordan is a lot of things at once.

The first time he gets to talk with him is early in the morning when birds haven't yet began to chant their first song of the day. The nervous energy coming with the prospect of his first training session with the First team of Liverpool FC has made him spend a few sleepless nights. Burning copious amount of incense in his bedroom hasn't been helping in calming his nerves. Fortunately, he stays an early-riser at heart and he’s still 30 minutes early when he’s making his way to the locker room.

Halfway there, he has a short exchange with Randall whom he had already met previously through an occasion he can't remember. He then quickly walks toward the locker room, intending to change in his training gear and run a few minutes before training starts. There's someone else on the bench he intended to sit on, rummaging through his belonging and it's none other than the captain of the team, Jordan Henderson.

“Uh, hi.” he timidly says, hoping to make his presence known.

“Ah fuck !” startles Jordan “You scared me shirtless !” he exclaims, before looking curiously at him “You are ?”

“Oh sorry, yes my name Tre-”

“Trent Alexander-Arnold, yes , yes now I remember our coach told me we had a new academy recruit who would be joining our ranks this week !” he recalls, while holding his hand to greet Trent properly.

His hand is warm, incredibly so. His own aura feels almost changed by it and Trent has trouble keeping up with his captain's questions, too mesmerized by the aura of somebody else other than him for the very first time in his existence.

***

The first minute of play he gets with his new team are, like it could be expected, a roller-coaster of emotions. More often than what he would like, he feels his heart pulsates uncontrollably against his rib cage when he thinks about how lucky he is to have made it so far at his age. He has so much to prove, so much to show ! The fans seems to understand that and cheer on him, they already love him, saw his dedication to their club through his formation in the academy and his talent. Their enthusiasm about him reminds him of the one of the Miss Stevensson's sunflowers and he feels lightheaded by the thought of it.

His adjustment with his actual new teammates takes longer to settle into. Back in the academy, he was the prodigy, the one who was miles ahead of his counterparts. Socialization wasn't something that was expected of him. Here, in the First Team, everything is different.

He has to makes a place for himself, to make his presence valuable and known, yet not enough for it to be perceived as a threat against the established hierarchy. It's a subtle social task, one he's not sure how to complete.

Yet, it turns out he'll never have to actually figure it out on his own.

After a few weeks and a few days of well-deserved rest, he finally can put himself back on track with his usual sleeping schedule and he enjoys his first full-night of sleep. Determined to regain his old habits, he wakes up on Monday at 6am and arrives 1 hour and a half earlier than planned on the training grounds.

Escaping the frantic energy of a locker rooms too packed and loud is always the sign of a great day coming, he thinks satisfied as he revels in the calmness of his surrounding.

Bored out his mind after having completed his warm-up, he decided to settle down at the cafeteria to use the wi-fi and roam the internet. It's then, that he notices someone coming up to him.

“Hi there, forgot to change your watch to winter time ?” Jordan wonders outloud.

“Oh, no, I woke up early so I decided to get here instead of hanging uselessly at home.”

“You had trouble sleeping ? Not because our gaffer gave you too much trouble I hope ?” he asks with a concerned frown while Trent frantically shakes his head in denial.

“Well then I'm glad it has nothing to do with him and you know what, next time you're this early, come to the gym on the second floor, me and Adam are often there quite early too ! We'll keep you company !”

“Oh nice, great thanks !” Trent answers at a loss of intelligent words as Jordan's already making his way to whatever place he was going before stopping at Trent's table.

“And bring something for us to munch on while you're at it !” Jordan says loudly without waiting for Trent's reply before disappearing from his views in the corridor.

The day pass by in some kind of blur, and then, the following morning Trent shows up where Jordan told him he would be.

The gym at the second floor is a spacious room, filled with equipments the academy didn't provide them with : from the dumbbell equipment to the bodybuilding bench, everything seems either very high-tech or either very expensive. Jordan's indeed there and has his back facing him as he is busy finishing a set of tractions. Trent observes him silently for a few seconds, watches the curves of his backside as his muscles shifts underneath his shirt until he's abruptly interrupted in his observations as someone bumps into him from behind.

“Oh sorry newbie, I really need to stop looking at my phone while I walk !” Lovren, the culprit of the collision, says.

“Newbie got a name !” reprimands their captain who had just finished his set of tractions to face them.

“Uh, yes, sorry, I'm Trent Alexander-Arnold, it's an honor to play by your side !” Trent says, thinking Jordan is scolding him him for not introducing himself.

“No need to be that formal kiddo, we already introduced each other during lunch last week or were you too busy ogling our captain ?” Lovren asks, puzzled before he points out at what's in Trent's hand “Anyway, you brought me a little something ?”

“Oh yes, Jordan told me to bring something to eat, so I took a basket of home-grown cherries in my garden, I hope it's alright ?”

“Ah man come on, I was away for a few weeks of rehabilitation and now that's what you bully new members into bringing for breakfast ? Who even like cherries in this day and age ?” moans Lovren while making exaggerated gestures at Jordan.

“Don't worry Trent, it's perfect.” Jordan reassures as he approaches him and takes a bite into one of the cherries “They're delicious, Dej, you don't know what you're missing !”

What a strange feeling, to gain the approval of his pairs, of his captain for something else than his talents in football, he thinks. It makes his insides twist and his mouth goes dry when he realizes that he want that, he wants the approval of Jordan.

And the worst in this, is that gaining his captain's approval is so easy. Through their next training sessions, his first matches and their time together Jordan never fails to look over him with an aura of benevolence.

He doesn't know what provoked it, maybe it was the warm glint of Jordan's eyes, or the way they clicked together and how Trent immediately felt under his wings, but for the very first time, Trent starts to want to _be_ for someone else other than him.

As days pass, he feels his own aura's turbulence. It's as if his very soul started to get agitated by this newfound yearning to get to know every expressions that can contort Jordan's face, to understand where he's coming from and to where he's going.

Trent begins to look forward to any occasions to hang around Jordan. There's days where he can't wait for the next conversations they will hold together, talking about every subjects they wanted to hear the other's opinion on. From their next opponent, the arrival of a new staff member, the best tactics to win a game of chess to politics and really anything else as long as he could drink his captain's words like a fine nectar.

And at night, Trent wonder if it is what loving someone else feels like ?

***

He finds the answer to this question soon enough in the most unexpected form that could be.

They're at the annual gala of the Liverpool Foundation and Trent's happy to just sip his drink in a quiet corner of the hall they're in when he notices Jordan having a animated discussion with his mother.

“Oh, Trent you know what your mother and I were talking about ?” Jordan asks when he sees Trent approaching.

“Nothing too embarrassing for me, I hope ?”

“Nooo, actually I was asking her what was her secret for harvesting the plums you brought to training last Thursday and she told me you were the one taking care of the garden ?” he said in an overly surprised voice, alcohol clearly making him more exuberant than one should be after learning such a small fact.

“I'm surprised he hasn't been boasting about that until now, Trent always had a real green hand, didn't you ?”

“I wish I was like that, my garden is nothing but a sad excuse for one...” intervenes Jordan, his eyebrows almost joining each other in a sign of concern.

“Oh but actually he should come over to yours !“ her mother cuts in, mischief evident in her tone ”I'm sure Trent would be more than happy to help you with that garden, right Trent ?”

“Really Trent ? You could do that for me ?”

“Yes, I guess ?” Trent answers, voice cracking as he feels his blood rushing through his cheeks.

And just like that, he finds himself weeks later, in front of Jordan's house, cursing at his mother's inability to not meddle in his life.

He feels stupid for the way his thoughts are jumbled since his captain invited him : Jordan is nothing like his old classmates and he seemed delighted when he learned about Trent's well-hidden green hand.

And as he plays with the small talisman he carved out of one of the poplar near his house to bring him courage, he waits for the door to open. Jordan soon welcomes him enthusiastically and with just the crinkles appearing at the corner of his eyes, his captain manages to calm his nerves more effectively than any amulet could.

They settle themselves in his kitchen for a bit, talking about the match coming up at the end of the week. Like always, the discussion is easy going and flows without awkwardness from his captain. He himself feels on another planet, his hands moist with nerves.

Once they've finished the ice tea they were sipping on, Jordan leads him to the garden and...Yes, alright that's a sad excuse of a garden, Trent thinks.

His captain's backyard is not unkempt like he was expecting, rather it is a compilation of all the errors an inexperienced but well-intended novice would commit when growing a garden. It's surface make for almost the double of the house but he can already points out multiples mistakes his captain did : On its left, he hears the distant cries of bushes, who feel muzzled surrounded by simply too much grass. Just next to it, a small plum tree looks ill and just sad with the excess of chemicals Jordan poured on it. By his right, one look at his tomatoes and the other sprouts of vegetables and he immediately sees the problem. They feel abandoned, left alone in the corner of his garden in a humus too old and unfruitful for them.

“Don't worry, I'll take care of you.” he claims instinctively as he already starts to plan the work they'll have to do with Jordan.

“That bad, uh ?” says Jordan who had gone searching for his garden's tools and just reappeared, hands filled with a collection of rakes, shovels and gardening scissors in all shapes and sizes.

They spend an afternoon, replanting the tomatoes in an area of his garden that fits them better, talking about anything and everything, and Jordan listening carefully to Trent's rants about everything he did wrong. Jordan's smile is good-natured during all of it, happy to spend time with Trent and for someone to finally point to him everything he did wrong in his garden.

Trent is in the middle of answering Jordan's question about the best kind of natural pesticide to use, when he accidentally brushes his fingers against a nettle.

“Ouch !” he exclaims uselessly looking at this fingers.

“Oh, sorry, I knew I should have taken care of those nettles, but they keep coming back no matter what I do...Here, let me pour some water on it !” Jordan said as he took Trent's hand into his own and poured the cold liquid over the stung area.

His captain's fingers then brush lightly over Trent's hand, as gently as a feather's touch and their eyes meet. Both of them are aware that the stung of a nettle does not require such extensive care, but yet they happily pretend it does.

If before he had doubts, the somersault his heartbeat does when he crosses the gentle stare of Jordan definitely convince him that yes, this is what being in love feels like.

***

From now on, when they aren't training, they spend entire afternoons taking care of Jordan's poor excuse of a garden : applying fertilizer on the soil, programming a sprinkler to water the lawn at the right time, getting rid of the countless weeds, pruning the trees and completing countless of other tasks.

Despite all their hard work, Trent decide to add a few drops of growth elixir in the humus of Jordan's garden (because he may understand Nature like no one else, but he's still able to recognize a lost cause when he sees one). Fortunately, Jordan doesn't understand the bushes when they try to expose him.

And beside those private moments spent just between the two of them, there's the exhilaration of their victories at Anfield, the ever-growing sense of familiarity in their team and a myriads of other small details that make his world just a little bit wider than before.

At some point, to his own surprise, he even starts to warm-up to his other teammates and make friends with Andrew, one of the new recruit of the 2017-2018 season, whose soul and aura shine gently and lazily around him, like he would and could never be a threat to anyone.

It's around the same time that he starts to think Jordan is trying to flirt with him. Jordan's stare begins to linger just a little longer than what would be appropriate between them and he seems to try to find any excuses to be tactile with him. Trent isn’t about to complain about it, not with the way his skin deliciously tingle whenever Jordan touches him. He just wished his knowledge of flirting wasn't entirely based on the blockbusters that his big brother loves so much, so he could have at least some solid evidences about his theory.

It's only when Jordan sends him a picture of a flower that mysteriously appeared overnight in his garden, that he knows.

The flower is beautiful, delicate in it's every design : it's a peony, a perennial flower which seeds probably got carried accidentally by the wind in his garden. It's what he tells Jordan, purposely neglecting to inform him peonies typically do not grown this early in the season. But Trent knows a sign of Nature when he sees one. From the old grimoires in his grandmother's living room, he remembers how peonies grow in places where young love, strong and mutual first bloomed. Maybe Jordan's garden got sick to be the theater of their awkward courtship and decided to answer's Trent questions. Or, maybe, just maybe it’s something wider than that, maybe Nature itself gave them its blessings.

With this newfound certitude, Trent's stare barely left the screen of his phone before he realizes that he's collecting his keys and stepping outside of his house. His ears cannot stop but ring on his way to his captain's house. He's acting on adrenaline, tensions high in his every members. Soon enough, he's ringing the gate at Jordan's house. His captain has barely the time to open his front door that Trent jumps on him to do the single thing he's been wanting to do for months but was too afraid to even think about when rejection seemed to be the only possible consequence : to capture Jordan's lips into his own, to feel the strong and reassuring built of his captain's chest against his own and to discover the taste of each other.

This act of bravado helped and pushed by Nature marks the beginning of something beautiful between them.

Something unnamed yet, just like his kind, how fitting, right ?

***

Jordan's not the first person he's in a relationship with, if what they have between them can be qualified by this word. Despite that, he still manage to be his first at a lot of things.

Jordan is the first relationship he has that was born out of interest and not out of the need to stop the worries of his parents for their young asocial son. Most of all, Jordan's the first human who seems to have the ability to mold and shift Trent's aura by the simple caress of his fingers.

It's what he discovers on their first night together, months after they started whatever they have between the two of them. His aura felt like it was shifting into something new altogether as Jordan's hands left an indelible trace of his hips. Or maybe it started shifting at the sound of the embarrassing moans that were ripped off Trent's own throat, or when he stopped being able to do anything but writhe under Jordan's touch.

Yes, Jordan's not the first person he's in a relationship with, but he's the first one that _matters_.

“I never did it with somebody else before, you know ?” he remember confessing under the pillow after his and Jordan's heartbeats finally regained a normal rhythm. He wanted to say so much more, to make Jordan understand how important he had become in his life, but at a loss of words, this confession was all he could manage.

“What do you mean ? With another man ?”

“No, with a person. I never cared much about girls or boys.”

“Oh...And did you enjoy your first time ?” Jordan asks holding him closer, as the atmosphere between them shift to something almost solemn with the weight of everything unsaid between them.

“It was....interesting.”

“Interesting, eh ? “

“I don't know, we'll have to do it two or three more times so I get enough experiences to rate it accurately...”

“Oh really ? Only two or tree more times ? That's a shame, I was hoping we could turn it into a regular occurrence ?”

“I don't know about that...” he answers after a few moments, a shy smile contorting his mouth as he lets his hand roam over Jordan's torso “Shouldn't you dine and wine me first ?”

Jordan's retort ends up being lost in his mouth as Trent captures it with a kiss.

He does end up wining and dining him and months fly by, fast enough to meld together into one single week. In between, Trent feels like life couldn't get better the further his relationship with his _boyfriend (?)_ and his professional career progress. It sends Trent reeling, to feel like everything happens at the same time in his life.

Yet, he's always left with the need for more minutes to play for his club, more time to study the latest elixirs invented by the savants of his kind. Above all, the need to spend more time with Jordan's company as a lover almost devours him. Always more, more and _more_.

He feels drunk on his aura, heart swelling to incommensurable size when he thinks about his luck. No offering to the sun would be good enough to represent all the gratitude he feels.

It's maybe why, on an evening when they lazily spend hours preparing themselves a copious dinner none of them will finish, Trent breaks his kind's vows to secrecy. Nothing is out of extraordinary on this one Friday night, so that's maybe why he does it : Because he's living a life he never thought could be his own, and yet everything is just so ordinary.

And like a self-imposed dam breaking inside him, he explains to Jordan his family ancestry, his affinity with plants that isn't _just_ an affinity. He tells him about what the songs of Magpie are made of, about how raging it is that humanity doesn't know that they could never be alone, even in their darkest and loneliest hour when Nature is all around them.

And Jordan does the only thing he has ever done to Trent : he accepts him as he is, nothing less, nothing more.

***

When time had developed a habit to pass too fast, months shifting into weeks and weeks into days, everything comes to a halt when 2018 shows its ugly head.

2018 and Real Madrid, their loss and the beginning of his problems.

It's devastating. Even more so when he's the only one who noticed how somethings is off with their opponent. Their auras have a malicious tint, one that reeks of forbidden substances, of capacities they shouldn't possess but still do.

“They move like they already know where's the ball is gonna be two seconds before it actually is there !” had said an exasperated teammate during their first half break. And Trent doesn't know how they did it, on what kind of science or magic they relied, but he knows that no matter what they do, no matter how well they play, Liverpool will lose on this evening.

Trent never hated more to be right when all around him, as the final whistle is heard, all he sees are the closed off face of his teammates, defeat painted all over them.

And Jordan...Well, Jordan looks ready to crumble. Their proud and brave captain manages to hid it in front of his teammates, but in the privacy of their room when no one else is looking but Trent, he sees the changes that slowly operate on their captain. Multiples times, he wants to tell him that it's not his fault, that he can't be angry at himself for not leading his team to victory when the other side was cheating. Somehow, he knows it would just make things worse for Jordan. To know they were deceived by another team without being able to do anything about it would just drive his lover's mad with powerlessness.

So Trent keeps the truth for himself and implores Nature to be gentle with his lover, for the ray of the sun to shine just a little bit brighter when it fall unto Jordan's skin, for the wind to imitate the gentle caress of a loving parent when it brushes his lover's hair.

Yet, insecurities starts to infest Jordan's aura like bacterias around an open wound. He carries himself with shoulders just a little bit more hunched than usual, his stare often distant and Trent knows that he's elsewhere in a place where nothing good can come out for him.

The ever-flowing discussions they had start to be reduced to nothing but a monologue on Trent' side. Maybe Jordan’s afraid that if he opens his mouth, his insecurities will start to spill on Trent. And Trent, confronted to this, feel useless.

It's a painful finding, to realize any talisman or tricks of his will be ineffective. These insecurities have already started to grow its roots deep in Jordan's psyche, no artificial elixir or talisman can alter that.

Trent tries his best, he talks and talks on his own until slowly Jordan starts to answer back. He offers his comfort, his warmth and his presence because it's the only thing he can provide. The inner battles Jordan's facing are of his own and he can only hope he'll be able to at least sooth the damages it causes in his lover.

And while Trent's busy trying to mend his lover's wounds, he doesn't notice how his own aura begins to be altered by the pointed claws of a simple thought :

From now on, he'll do anything to make sure nothing will make Jordan second-guess his value.

_Anything_.


	2. Riptide

Over the immediate days following their loss, Trent had tried his hardest to create a small bubble around Jordan. One where his days consisted of nothing but receiving visits from his family, his friends and being coddled by Trent. Fortunately, Jordan was an easy patient. He only asked for quiet moments together, for his lover to let him win at their rounds of chess at least once in a while and for his professional life to fade out into oblivion.

Yet, despite his best efforts, if Jordan's eyes had remained dry since the evening following their defeat, they still had an unfathomable depth inside them. Had their defeat managed to create such a devastating effect on his captain that it seemed that the very foundations of Jordan's wellbeing was damaged ? He knew being a footballer was an integrate part of Jordan’s identity, that any second-doubts about his skills on the field could impact him on a personal level as well, but...There was something else too.

Trent needed time. Yes, he needed time to understand what was hiding behind those brown eyes he almost didn't recognize anymore.

Yet, nor he, nor Jordan could indulge themselves to stay eternally in the secluded haven that Jordan's house became for them. Nature might be happy to bend to Trent's will if he asks respectfully enough, but Time is an entity escaping anybody's control and with each sunrises, he is reminded that it plays against them.

And just like that, it feels like they've barely been able to start resting after their exhausting and disappointing 2017-2018 campaign, that they must travel to Russia for the World Cup.

As soon as they arrive at St George's facilities to participate to a pre-competition bootcamp, they both feel on another planet. In retrospect, they maybe were : on a planet were the notion of silence, intimacy and solemnity were unknown concepts. Everywhere he and Jordan go, the sound of laughters, of footballer enthusiastically speaking to one another is echoed. It's as if they could pretend they never tasted the bitterness of defeat when they are carried by the enthusiasm and the excitement of their new team. And sure, Trent's head throbs at the end of their first day, but the softness of Jordan's compassionate stare soothed the pain easily.

“You'll messages us as soon as you step foot in Russia, right?” had his father implored him after their bootcamp was finished and as Trent was preparing himself to join his teammates at the airport.

“Yes, don't worry.” he had whined.

“You say that but you always forget and your mother and I are left alone worrying us sick over you !”

“Dad, come on, Nature's behind me on that. I'm sure we'll have a flight with barely any turbulences ! ” Trent answered back, an elusive smile appearing on his face. Yes, he had an inkling his cacophonous teammates and him would be looked over.

“You say that now ! But what about Nature in Russia, who knows which interests It serves !?” his father had added as Trent was charging his last luggage in his taxi.

“Dad, what are you on about ?” he erupted in laughter “Nature's one, no matter where we are on the globe ! You need to stop watching the television !” he concluded before taking his worrying father in his arms.

***

Trent and his teammates land, of course, safely in Russia. Unsurprisingly, Trent also forgets to send a text to his parents to share with them this information.

How could he, when the rowdiness of their little group of english footballer doesn't even allow him to think ? Soon enough yet, after all the training sessions, the travels through the country and their days together, it almost become endearing and Trent resigns himself for the sole quiet stolen moments he gets to have with Jordan.

As they progressively enter in the mindset to start the competition, it becomes evident that despite Trent's apprehension, Jordan seems to be more than happy to just ride on the wave of effervescence buzzing among them.

And Trent never wants it to stop. Being carried by their supporters, by the positivity the World Cup brings almost make him believe they're soaring to the sky. Him and Jordan, playing above the clouds, surrounded by nothing but light : It's how he'll remember this competition. And how he yearns for this event to span over an eternity and to never, ever have to stop feeling like there's not enough air in the world to breath on.

Alas, without surprise, when their part in the competition inevitably stops and they get eliminated by Croatia, when Trent's heart feels like it's crushed by an anvil, it's Jordan who offers him solace with reassuring words that leave nothing but a soothing echo behind them.

And just like that, the biggest sporting event of the year passes them by, like water through their hands.

Trent is only able to take a step back from their Russian adventure on their last evening before heading back to England. He and Jordan had decided to enjoy a small escapade to the forest behind their headquarters in the north of Saint-Petersburg. A small moment, just for them, the first one in almost a month, had argued his captain as an uncharacteristic pout had started contorting his face.

Following the instruction of one of their team's security guard, they are authorized to go along one of a pea shingle path that leads them directly to the dense forest cut behind the property. The forest they soon enter is an old one, maybe older and wilder than every single one he's visited in England. Yet, he feels safe there, how could he not when Nature's benevolent self encircles him ?

They’ve been walking with no aim but to follow the path's trail for a good twenty minutes. Around them, the trees seems to be taller and taller as the vegetation around them grow more savage. As Trent's head turns to share his observations with his lover, he realizes he's not with him, not really.

His lover's stare is once again lost in the distance, fixated into nothingness. It's as if the prospect of coming back to their native England was synonymous to re-open wide the wounds he could pretend never existed when they were surrounded by their teammates. Trent's hands tingle with the need to take him into his arms, but they can't risk being seen in a compromising situation. Not here, not outside the security of their base-camp where nobody bats an eyes at their overly affectionate habits.

Jordan is extirpated from his deep thoughts when a small brambling unexpectedly settles itself on his right shoulder. It's a beautiful creature, his breast shines bright with the coloration of orange and he looks barely able to stay in place, as if ready to flaps its wings at any moment. Yet, its paws stay delicately anchored to Jordan's shoulder.

“Did you do that ?” his lover asks, eyes as wide as it physically can, yet never leaving the small bird. Soon, his fingers tentatively starts to stroke the small being's wings.

“Me ? I have no idea what you’re talking about. Seems like this bird just loves you.” he answers in a small voice, an evident smile soon painting his lip.

Before he knows it, Jordan's not walking at his level anymore. When he turns himself to face him, he’s met with an expression he has never seen crossing the face of his lover.

Did he go too far ?

“So-Sorry, Jordan I didn’t want to scare you, I thought it would cheer you-“

“I love you too.” his lovers marks a small pause as he seems transfigured by the fragile animal nuzzling his neck before he continues “I wish I could see the words through your lenses sometime.”

“Uhm ?”

“Sometime, I just think about what you are...I know you don't have magic but...Sometime it feels like what you do is just that...Sometime I feel so small when I'm next to you, you know that ?”

“I-...Jord-”

“Forget what I said.” Jordan proclaims while shaking his head, visibly forcing himself back to his usual imperturbable self “I'm just rambling at this point, let's head back to the hotel to steal some bread for your little friend, right ?”

Jordan's already two steps ahead of him when his words catch up to Trent's brain. It's a rare opportunity, for Jordan to confide into him and yet, the moment is gone barely a second after it began.

And when they make their way back to their headquarters, it's in a silence caused by their mutual distant thoughts. Jordan's head is far away, probably daydreaming about a world where they both could have won the 2017-2018 champion's league, the premier league's title or at least Trent assumes it's where it's at.

On the other hand, Trent's brain is rendered paralyzed by this same affirmation and all it implies :

He doesn’t have magic, Jordan’s right.

But seeing Jordan's anxiety resurfacing as the small parenthesis of the 2018 World cup is closed behind them, it all makes an idea germinates in his mind :

Nature's always been a guide to his kind, providing them with answers when they are lost.

And maybe now, an answer is all he needs. Maybe there's something Nature can do, maybe, just maybe he could use it to their advantage, to Jordan's advantage.

It's just in case, just a security blanket for Jordan's well-being and besides, it never hurt anyone to just ask, right ?

***

For some reasons that escape his understanding, his own father seemed to be right after all. Nature may be one entity around the globe, but It does feel different there in Russia. And Trent, stupidly, feels too shy to demand Nature's guidance in a setting so unfamiliar. He decides then to wait for their return back where his connection to Nature is the strongest.

An eternity seems to pass until they reach this place : an endless series of goodbyes and well-wishes from their teammates, a dreadful long flight and ride back and finally, they are back to Jordan's home. Feet and shoulders sore after their trip back, his lover insists to make a beeline to the bedroom and makes Trent collapses on top of him. While they settled themselves, Trent positions himself firmly next to Jordan, wanting nothing more but to anchor himself by his side to calm his rapidly beating heart.

“Wait, with the heatwave it's not gonna work, I'll need to turn on the air-conditioner.” had said Jordan five minutes later, pearls of sweats already appearing on his skin.

“Mmm, no, stay...” he pretended to answer as if sleep was on the verge of claiming him. Almost simultaneously, he guided a stream of fresh air into Jordan's house that soon caressed both their skin. He doesn't want his lover to quit his side, not even for a second especially now that he's hours away from doing something monumental.

“Well, if you told me you could do that, I would have never spent 5000 pounds in installing that air-conditioner, uh ?” his lover had mumbled, a satisfied smile appearing on his face as he was already drifting off to sleep.

Hours later, when Jordan's been long asleep, midnight comes, and his time too. The moon, at its highest in the sky drops a fine linen of light on the intense darkness of the night.

Almost reluctantly, he ceases his contemplation of his lover whose every features are bathed by the moonlight and with trembling legs, he descends the stairs until he reaches the garden's door.

He stands in the middle of Jordan's backyard for a while, feeling like his every members are frozen and at the same time jittery with nerves. Asking directly to Nature, without using flowers or animals as intermediaries for help is something he has never done, too afraid to be inadequate as one can be when disrupting Nature's rest to find the resolution of a mortal matter.

After focusing on the rise and fall of his own chest in an effort to recenter himself on his current task, he lets his knees dig into the soil of Jordan's garden, the one that was the very first place that witnessed the original sparks of their relationship fly. He presses the palm of his right hand to it, as if to greet Mother Nature's and hopes she will hear his plea for help. He lets himself feel the unstoppable force of the neighborhood trees, which roots grow deep under his feet, he allows himself to recognizes the thousands of living beings beneath the surface which declared this very parcel of earth their home. He waits and he waits under the weak light of the moon until he can't help but wince at the sensation of his knees on the hard and cold soil beneath him.

“Please.” he ends up whispering into the silent night, feeling chills coursing through his body.

And as a indescribable sparks of electricity courses from the tips of his fingers to his heart, Nature answers him back.

As if it was always there, a part of his brain supplies to him a series of information about certain kinds of flowers, of rocks and trees that at first seems nothing but a mess of disjointed knowledge. Then slowly, it all starts to overlap together. Nature granted him the knowledge necessary to brew an elixir he never learned the existence of in any of the books that were written by his kind. One that could provides him with strength and agility that was yet to be matched, one that could ensure, if all else failed, that victory would be by his captain's side.

It would be the promise of a new summer, unlike the one that just finished, where he felt at time overwhelmed by worries for his captain. It would be a summer of dizzying insouciance, of pure and unaltered happiness in the arms of his contented captain.

And it would be so easy to not even take the risk of trusting his team's ability to win this year.

Some of the ingredients needed for it are already in his supply : the fine powder of an amber that was left during a day directly exposed to the sun, Nightshade's stems and their petals, a bowl filled with the muddle water of a puddle, roots of Juniper berries, those are the easy ingredients. It's almost too convenient, almost too tempting.

Others have never been used in elixirs, their specificity being simply too unique : the nectar of apricots harvested precisely as the dawn rises, the raw sap of a cedar twice older than the elixir's maker and yet, as the list his mind supplies him goes on and on, he realizes it would be barely an inconvenience to gather them all. To transform those ingredients into the elixir, Nature seems to have made his task even easier as he would simply have to assemble them and heat them at the temperature of a fire alimented for three hours by the small branches of a decaying birch. And when its solution will have taken the same color of a chestnut's bark, he'll have to let it evaporates, until only four single drop of the concoction are left on the wall of the recipient it boiled in.

It all seems so easy, he could already start the preparation now. He could slip each of those precious pearls of elixir in the water gourds of some of his teammates before every matches, drinks one too and make sure they would not know defeat during this season...He could, he could, he could...

But something blocks him, maybe it's cowardice, maybe it's an excess of confidence in his team's ability and Jordan's leading capacity.

Yes, he convinces himself : he has to let themselves a chance, he has to trust themselves first and he must takes reigns over the irrational doubts that create a lump in his throat.

He must wait for the right time to use this knowledge to their advantage and hopes it simply never comes. He hopes with all his might that the 2017-2018 was an unsuccessful first try and that next season will be a fruitful season. He can already see it, the sight it would be to watch his lover's efforts, dedication and sacrifices be recompensed. Jordan's aura, triumphant and finally content, at ease and himself, by his side, _always by his side_.

And so, as he takes the stairs back to his lover's bedroom, he tries to store this knowledge deeper and deeper in his brain. For now, he has a lover to get back in bed with and to snuggle himself next to.

For now, he still have to cling on the hope he'll never have to give in to the temptation of negating everything he was raised to believe in by using the elixir.

***

In the end, the choice is robbed from him :

One point.

That's how close they were to win the premier league's title. Trent is left numb with yet another loss, another proof he is failing his lover.

Once again, there’s one single match, a champion’s league match that separates them from spending another season feeling like coming second best is the only thing Jordan’ captaincy can manage.

Yet, it would be unfair to talk about their year only within the scope of the biting feeling of failure. If he forgets the sense of dread that grew and grew the more trophies were escaping his lover's hands, their year was so much more than that. It was a year of surpassing themselves, of building their team tighter, of finally feeling like he has his place, not only next to Jordan but next to his teammates.

But right now, all the memories they had created during this year seemed like they barely mattered at all.

He had tried so hard. How many time had he gotten screamed at by Virgil for breaking from his position just so he could try to help the strikers as best as he could ? How many times had he not listened to his body when it asked for just one or two match of rest ? How many times had he felt powerless to pass the ball to the right person at the right moment ? How many times had he felt like his chest was collapsing on itself when one of their matches ended in a draw or in a defeat ? Too many times, simply too many.

And worst of all, all of this was for nothing. For them to lose the Premier League's race and the specter of Jordan's insecurities to make his appearance once again. For the restless night of sleep Jordan spent to reappear, for history to repeat itself.

Except this time, he wouldn't allow it.

Even if for that he'll have to witness his aura taking on the very same nauseous tint that the one the Real Madrid's player had taken almost a year ago.

And when he can't help but let a shaky breath as he realizes not only what he'll have to do but also to whom, to the Spurs, to some of his teammates on the national team, only one single litany resonate in his mind :

Forget Dele, Danny, Kane or even himself and his prideful ethics...Focus on Jordan and Jordan's _only._

***

Of their one week training camp at Marbella, Trent has little memories...He feels out of his body, unable to come to terms with what he's about to do. He wants everything to stop, he wants to get out of this hellish spiral his entire being is stuck in.

Yet, he can't backtrack anymore, not when days later he's ineluctably forced to assist to the most mundane scene one could witness minutes before their team disputes a champion's league finale : he watches his teammates hydrate themselves. It would be so easy to focus his attention on anything else. But his brain almost feels sore, like focusing on this scene is the only thing he can manage and he can't pretend to forget that three of his teammates aren't just drinking on simple water.

Each gulps they take is a step back Trent cannot take anymore. Each gulps they take is one he must take too. Resigned, he makes a toast to the promise of his lover standing in the middle of a stadium, head high and eyes shining as all his efforts for the past years as a captain are finally rewarded.

As he drinks on his own water gourd and let the first pearls of the elixir touch his taste-buds, the nerves wracking his mind make it seems like the liquid burns his throat and he has to use all his self-control to not regurgitate it.

He really can't go back now, no matter what.

The effects of the elixir are at first subtle and it's only when rushes of adrenaline cross through his body in the very first seconds of the match that his body changes under the influence of the elixir.

His muscles become on fire, ready to contract at any moment. He moves with a determination and a precision to cut short any hopes their opponent have to enter the last 20 meters separating them from Becker's cage. It's maddening, this impression of utter control that invade his brain and his muscles. The entire match seems reduced to only a succession of intercepting the ball and giving it back to his teammates. It's a endless chain of his left and right foot hitting the grass and moving without hesitation. He's so concentrated on his task that his breath catches in his throat when he notices they are in the final additional minutes : They are almost there, the trophy is practically in their hands.

Everything's going to be over soon, he utters as a mantra to calm his nerves.

The moment the final whistle is heard through the stadium, their whole team becomes one in victory. Instinctively, he feels himself fall to the ground. Unmoving, he mentally thanks Nature for having answered his pleas all those months ago. As his heart seems to grow twice its size in his ribcage, filed to the brim with relief, he hopes the sheer intensity of his gratitude will be reverent enough to Nature.

 _This is it_ , this is his vision. As he still hasn't moved from the ground, he watches his teammates all rallying around Jordan to lift him up in the air. The ever-familiar song of YNWA starts to resonate in the stadium, sung by their supporters. At the sound of it, Trent can do nothing but close his eyes and let his heartbeat resonates through his entire body with each line of their anthem. This. is. it. Everything he has worked for, every drops of sweats and of tears he had to shed for Jordan, it's over now.

And when he finally has reigned over the dizziness that assaulted him, his eyes can't help but focus on their defeated opponent. He needs to see, needs to witness the consequence of his actions. When he searches for the lilywhites, he sees their auras as strong as they were before the match began. Auras reflecting of pride, of achievements, like they did win something too, even in their loss.

But their irises...They tell a different tale, one of defeat, of powerlessness and Trent feels burned by this sight.

And as he feels himself being lifted from the ground by one of his teammate, long gone is the impression of lightness the elixir procured him. His body feels heavy, like he's just woken up from a night of restlessness.

Through the endless chants and cheering of his teammates, Trent has to find multiple moments to catch his breath. Everything is too much : the tremors of their fans, the beauty of the Kiev stadium littered with confetti, his teammates rousing him into their embarrassing dance of victory. His parents, his brothers, his teammates, everything that constitutes his world is surrounding him. Their euphoria and franticness are contagious and Trent let himself lulled by it, but his breath keeps catching up in his throat while he bares his teeth in a smile that barely resembles one.

 _Their_ eyes haunt him, taunt him even long after no spurs are left on the pitch.

Jordan's the only sight that prevails above those haunted looks. Jordan whose face is mared with traces of tears and who never looked so beautiful. And as he feels disorientated, almost dizzy with the conflicting feelings attacking him, Jordan looks like the eye of the hurricane that he's in.

“For you Trent.” his lover had whispered in his ears during one of their multiple accolades, their teammates chants making any real conversation almost impossible.

Yet after those three single words, his lover is lead elsewhere by one of their teammates and his soothing aura disappear from his sight. Once again, the brunt of the hurricane assaults him and he's left with no air to breath on.

The turmoils of sensations he experiences doesn't stop when the endless flashes of cameras cease or when the rapid flow of champagne is reduced to a simple trickle for the last partying member of his squad. It only briefly stops when him and Jordan are finally alone and are at the center of each others world, lost in their elation and in each others arms.

And when he cannot find sleep, when the noises around him are reduced to nothing but the slight snores of his lover, all he can hear is his own heartbeat.

It's a deafening noise, one that should not be as rhythmed and as noisy in the quiet of the night and yet one that isn't loud enough to cover his desperate attempts to keep the tears pearling on his eyes to fall.

The defeated expressions of his national team colleague still resurface sporadically in his mind and he can’t to anything to escape it, not even sleeping. He can't even stay there coddled by the warmth of the blanket he shares with his lover. At first, he considers letting his tears fall freely by taking refuge in Jordan's bathroom, but...There's a mirror in it and he's not sure he has enough courage to bear to see his own reflection now.

Yet, his breathing becomes shakier as he stays in inaction and Jordan waking up to see him in this state is the last thing he wants. He needs to do something, to focus on anything else but the silence of their hotel room that only seems to plague his mind.

Silently, he pulls himself off their bed and swiftly dresses himself in his trainer to let his feet lead him to wherever they will. His phone GPS will lead him back safely to their hotel, but in the meantime he has to run, even if he doesn't know where it leads him to.

And so, he runs past an old antique store two streets down their hotel filled with old chairs that barely seems like they belong to this age. He runs past a parking lot that seems like it's been in construction for decades. He crosses a bridge that goes across a small river next to a golf course and he runs, runs, runs past too many unfamiliar landmarks to count.

And then, his right leg hits a branch of thistle .

 _Where are you going like that ?_ It reprimands him back to reality and he stops. His throat hasn't stopped burning him and he feels so, so exhausted. A part of him want to keep running, until he disappear from this world, until not even himself remember where he comes from.

But his lover doesn't deserve to have his victory ruined by his behavior. Come to think about it, after what he did, maybe his lover doesn't even deserve him at all, Trent thinks bitterly on his way back to their hotel.

When he finally reaches his and Jordan's room, the first light of the morning have started painting the sky. His lover is still comfortably on their bed when he lifts the cover to join him, hoping his absence will have gone unnoticed.

“Where were you ?” mumbled Jordan in an half-conscious state.

“Oh, nowhere, I just went to take a bite down the cafeteria, I was hungry.” he lies swiftly.

“Once we're back home, I'll make your favorite, scrambled eggs and all, love.”

“Ssssh Jordan, go back to sleep now”

And as Trent pretends to find a more comfortable place to rest next to Jordan's, his lover's fall back to sleep in a matter of seconds. The same couldn't be said about Trent. No matter how many breathes he tries to take to calm himself down, no matter how he tries to attune himself to the gentle song of the wind whistling against the window shutters of their room, he cannot appease the discomfort installed in his chest.

He eventually manages a few hours of sleep. Two, maybe three if he's generous in his estimations.

_He doesn't deserves more anyways._

***

“Where's your head's at ?” Jordan ends up asking him on their plane back to England. Trent's been staring at the landscape passing by his porthole for a while now, silently retreating himself from the still festive atmosphere of their teammates.

“Uhm ?”

“You've been kinda quiet since yesterday ? Season's over love, we can relax now. We can celebrate.” Jordan whispers as he lets the palm of his hand graze over Trent's left cheek.

And it's seems stupid but...there's something in the softness of his lover's touch that makes Trent realizes that it was worth it.

Jordan's the only person that was _ever_ worth it, a part of his mind supplies before getting lost in his observation of the distant land beneath them and letting Jordan go back to his seat.

***

Back in the small cocoon that Jordan's home always been for Trent, he's soon reminded of his captain's definition of relaxing. It involves longs naps through the day, full meals course and lazy afternoons. It involves taking care of his now radiant and thriving garden while listening to the most annoying pop radio station. It's a routine Trent's happy to follow.

But he want to do more. He needs his mind to be busy, his body to be active. He needs movements, laughter, noises. Anything to distract his mind of those eyes that haven't stopping following him everywhere since they won.

So when the quietness of Jordan's home gets too much for him and his own thoughts grow too loud, he starts to accept his teammate's offer to party, ready to do anything to get rid of the excess of energy. He starts to plan in advances long workout sessions with a personal coach, he even schedules multiples interviews and marketing films, more that he's ever did until now in his entire career.

It's not the summer he dreamed of, not the one he envisioned to spend next to his lover who almost glows as his aura never looked more enticing.

He hates every singles seconds he has to spend away of Jordan's arms, but he has no other choices. He needs to busy his mind until the dangerous fire spreading through him is extinguish and until he can finally bear to make eyes contacts with his own reflection.

And worst of all, no matter how hard he tries to reign in on the restlessness that plagues him, he sees the way Jordan's concerned stares intensify as his behavior goes unexplained, he notices the evident disappointment painting his lover's face whenever Trent has to quit him.

Between his constant need to pack as much as possible the schedule of his summer and the restless nights he spends, he knows he's been blowing hot and cold on Jordan : seeking the solace of his company and yet not being able to stay too long in his embrace before thoughts he can't ever be ready to face assault him.

Unfortunately for him, Jordan may be patient, understanding and caring, but he's also nothing but confrontational when he feels people around him hide things from him.

Jordan reminds him of this one characteristic of his on a Friday evening like any others. After an afternoon of hiking through Peak District Park, they've just came back to Jordan's home and immediately found themselves tangled in their sheets. In the midst of Trent's chaotic spirit condition, every thing seemed perfect. Lost in his lover's caring touches, the spaces between them being reduced to almost nothing, he could pretend the world consisted of only themselves. He could close his eyes and no remembrance would haunt him, no shame would makes him boil. All he could feel would be the delicious sensation of his lover moving inside him and their mouth crashing into one another until they felt like suffocating. Those were the moments he seemed to live for those days.

And then, when their desperate desire to content each other was satiated, silence would follow and the harsh return of the pair of eyes would systematically come.

This Friday night was no exception to this scenario. Sleep still escape him like water in his hands and he's waited until Jordan's gentle breath started to even out to exit their bed and busy his mind until he's granted a few hours of restless slumber. He's quietly making his exit to the living room when his lover's voice resonates, clear as crystal in their bedroom.

“Did I do something wrong ?” he says, voice almost muffled by his pillow.

“What ?” Trent asks, as he turns himself to face him.

“Why don't you want to stay with me anymore ?”

“What are you on about Jordan ? ”

“Come on, love. You know what I mean. I know you've got a busy summer and it's great...But when I finally get you all for myself for 5 minutes, you're gone as soon elsewhere...?”

“I…I don't know...I just...I did lots of things too last year ?” he tries to propose, playing with the hems of his shirt as he begs his brain to come up with anything to divert the conversation from it's actual course.

From the corner of his eyes, he hears the mechanical click of the lamp's lightswitch by their bed being activated. Somehow, staring at Jordan's conflicted expression make it all worse. Trent decides to invite himself on Jordan's lap and to rest his back on his chest. There at least, he won't have to face him.

For a moment, they both seems content to enjoy the feel of each other skin and the electricity that naturally courses their bodies when touching.

“I've really thought about it...It’s not just that. You’re always...” Jordan speaks gently in his ear, almost whispering, as if afraid to even hear himself say what he was about to claim “It's more and more apparent that you're looking for something else.”

“What ?”

“You're...You didn't use to always go out, you used to just be content to do stuffs with me...Recently it's like I'm just another time slot in your schedule...So I'm just wondering if something happened between us that made you want to seek other people's company ?”

“No, no Jordan, you're wrong it's not because of anything related to you it's-..” he says hastily as he forces himself to quit Jordan's warmth to sit on the bed and finally face his lover.

“It's what Trent ? Come on love, talk to me.”

And Trent, maybe feeling himself crumbling over his tiredness and the comforting effects Jordan's warm eyes always had on him, feels himself finally open up to his lover.

“You remember back in may when you found the stocks of luminescent flowers I had stored in one of your drawers ?”

“The one called Nightshade ? Yes I remember, you told me it was for an elixir you wanted to try, right ?”

“You promise me you won't be angry ?” he asks as he plays with his fingers.

He's stalling, he knows it. Jordan's now sitting upright next to him and his gentle and patient caresses through his scalp even if soothing, do not help to ease the tension coursing through his body.

“Yes love, I promise.”

And he confesses everything, not daring to look up at Jordan's eyes, fearing for what storms they'll held. Too many pairs of eyes haunt his memories already, he can't take another one, especially if they belong to the person that matters the most to him.

“You're-” had his lover tried to said while taking a deep inhale of breath when Trent had finished to speak “You made us cheat ?”

“I-Yes.” he answers as he feels a lump appears in his throat, because that's what he did. He may have never called what he did like that until now, but it's the truth. The discomfort in his chest he's been feeling for far too long amplifies tenfold with this single affirmation.

He's a _cheater_.

“No...No, come on Trent.” Jordan whispered, his face filled with incomprehension ”Why are you telling me that. You wouldn't do that, right ?”

He want to tell him it has never been about winning the champion's league, never been about anything but Jordan. He want the anvil that has been weighting on his head, on his heart to finally be lifted from him and to feel as light as he used to be. Instead, all he feels is the way Jordan slowly quits his embrace and the abysmal cold that now seizes his own body.

“Because you deserved it.” Trent answer, unable to say anything but this single truth.

“Trent, deserved what ? Deserved to go down in history as the captain of a cheaters team ?” he said, voice rising progressively with each words.

“No ! You needed to see your value ! Last summer your aura was so subdued because of our loss ! I wanted to protect y-”

Suddenly, Jordan stands up from the bed, knocking over the light from his nightstand, his acute glare almost transpiercing Trent's being.

“From what Trent ? From what does a _fucking_ 20 years old kid needs to protect the captain of his team uh ? ”

“Jordan, I -”

“Enough ! Do you realize what you've done ! You literally spit on our every efforts since the beginning of our season ! You spit on our history !” his captain says, now rapidly moving around the room and never looking at him.

“No, no it's not what I did, please !” he implores, now standing to try to make Jordan's look at him as his lover's put on a pair of jogging and makes his way to the main entrance in sharp steps.

“Or what ? You're going to slip something in my drink without me noticing so I have no other choice but to listen to you ?” he snarls before adding “I'm gonna go for a run and when I come back in one hour, I want you gone.”

“But Jordan...It's almost 11PM by now, you shoul-” his sentence is cut short by the loud clack of the main door.

And here, in Jordan's home, the one he was almost tempted to start calling his own, he's never felt more out of place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I proofread that chapter on my way to and back from a friendly match between liverpool and olmypique lyonnais !!!!!!!!! IT WAS LIT !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hearing the supporters sings YNWA was beautiful ! 
> 
> YET, this chapter was incredibly difficult to write. Everytime I read it, there was so many paragraphs that didn't seems to fit with one another...The main issue I've had were that I was skipping over massive periods of time (a whole season !), massive events (the world cup !) and I had to finds ways to still convey that they were important, not only for the plot, but because I couldn't just gloss over them....
> 
> Next chapter will be the events that will follow what happened after this chapter but from Jordan POV. It's also be spanning over a shorter periods and guess what ? Jordan will be sad and angry while Trent will be sad, sad, sad and uh...Did I mention Trent would be sad ? Because he will. Self-destruction incoming :D:D:D:D:D:D:D


	3. Still water

_Inhale for five seconds : one, two, three, four, five and then exhale for five other seconds : one, two, three, four, five._

Those are simple breathing exercises Jordan can complete.

Letting the air infiltrates his lungs, feeling the way his chest expands with it and then allowing it all out.

Concentrating around the different ways his senses are awakened : the feel of his skin against the cotton shirt he's wearing, the familiar smell of the detergent he uses to wash the dishes, the noise of a distant voice calling out his name, the wa-

« -dan, son, are you okay ?”

As everything comes back to him at once, he realizes he let the coffee maker in front of him overflow and he hurriedly takes the cloth beneath the sink to wash the excess of water pouring out of it.

“Sorry, sorry ! I was distracted for a second ! ”

“I can see that ! That machine of yours was making enough noise to alarm the whole neighborhood and you wouldn't budge !” his father answers, brown furrowing as he looks at him “You're sure you're alright ?”

“Yes, you know how I get sometime, I think about too many things at the same time !”

“If you say so...Anyway, as I was saying before you got lost in your head, I was wondering if you had any plan to introduce your girlfriend to us ?”

As he rubs his forehead, now remembering what caused his inattentiveness, he feels dread invading his heart. He hasn't talked about what happened with anyone, especially not with his parents.

“-must have been what, almost a year you keep telling us you're with someone and yet we haven't seen a hair of the lucky girl !”

“I-...Her and me, we...We broke up.” he answers while chewing his lips.

“Really ?” exclaims his father as his frown deepens almost comically.

“Yeah...It wasn't working, it's best for everyone involved if we stopped whatever we had. »

“ It was mutual ? “

“Uhm...Dad, it's...It's still fresh, can we talk about something else ?” he proposes hurriedly when he starts feeling his chest contracting in an almost painful way.

“Yes, yes of course ! I didn't mean to pry. It's such a shame, your mother and I were just talking last week about how much good she seemed to you...”

“Yeah, well, what can you do ? It's life I guess...How about you tell me about this holiday resort you and mum want to go for next month ? Mum's been raving about it !”

“Yes, yes, of course ! Uhm well, we were initially plan-”

And as his dad goes on and on about his holidays, Jordan can only think one thing : “Yes, dad. Talk about anything just to drawn out the idea that I never got the guts to tell my own parents that the relationship I was in was with another man and that now, said relationship is already over.”

And to say he used to daydream about Trent meeting his parent as something else than just his young teammate... He still does, as even when his father starts showing him pictures of their hotel, he fantasizes about it. A perfect picture starts to form in Jordan's head. He can almost see it as a painting, one that would surely be hung in the middle of his living room if it existed. In the foreground, Trent, his features delicately painted with a brush, introducing himself to his parents as a bright smile decorates his face and himself, in the shadow with a mesmerized expression observing as his family meets the man he loved.

The title of this masterpiece would probably be called “Disillusions ”, a part of his brain supplies.

_Breath in, breath out, five seconds each._

Let the air infiltrates your lungs, feeling the way your chest expands with it and then allow it all out.

Above all, pretend your heart doesn't feel like it's collapsing into itself.

***

A few dozens breathing exercises later, his phone breaks the deadly silence that he's been drowning into since his father left. Usually, he would be irritated by this disturbance, but it's been almost two hours he's done nothing but to lay in one of his lounge chair and curiously looking at the couple of small bramblings that decided to build their nest in his plum tree.

As he picks up his phone, he's greeted on the other end of the phone by Klopp who immediately starts to ramble about all the reasons they should meet soon to look together at all the issues and perspectives the next preseason will bring to them. It will be a particularly complicated one, his gaffer explains. Oxlade-Chamberlain will have to fully adapt once again to playing full-time after coming back from his knee injury. New players will have to be looked after and guided through the pressure of their professional debuts. They'll also have to start their pre-season without a few of their most vital players who were called for national team duties. His gaffer goes on and on for what feels like a hour and yet, he welcomes this call almost like a divine gift.

Finally, something to put his mind into !

He cannot bear anymore to spend his days losing himself in his desperate attempt to try to understand why Trent did...whatever he did....He needs to occupy his mind, to retake his role of captain. Anything to fill the void devouring him.

***

The sounds of cleats on hard ground, of feet hitting balls and of orders shouted by the coaching staff soon fill his head as pre-season starts and his teammates progressively start to arrive at their training grounds. At last, some movements around him, some people blissfully unaware of how miserable he's been during his summer. Finally, a fresh new starts.

Joined by Adam as they both finished their checkups, he's been busy listening to his rambles about his holidays, the countries he had visited, the people he met and the food he ate until the characteristic click of a door being opened distracted him momentarily from listening to his friend.

It's Trent, looking like a deer caught in a cross-line at the doorstep of the gym.

_Breath in, breath out, five seconds each._

“So-Sorry, I didn't expect you to be here.” Trent says before swallowing loudly.

“Heeey Trent, my man ! Long time no see !” Adam exclaims boisterously before making his way in his direction, arms wide open in a silent invitation for his infamous hug.

“I- Gaffer wants us in the conference room in ten minutes, if you see others people on your way, tell them.” his (ex ?)-lover mumbled, eyes cast to the ground before making his exit as quickly as possible.

“Well, that was weird...” concludes Adam, arms still frozen in midair, as if still waiting for Trent to come back at any moment.

“Youngster those days, you know...” he says trying to joke with a smile he hopes does not come off as too brittle.

It must have worked, judging by the small snort that escaped his friend's mouth.

On their way to reach the conference room, Adam's whistles from behind him make him halt on his path. As he turns around to watch the source of his astonishment, his friend is pointing to the wall.

He can't help but gasp when he’s left staring at himself and his teammates, lifting the Champion’s league cup in a street-art rendition. It’s a beautiful mural, he can see its every details and recognizes everybody featuring in it. The way his heartbeat pounds violently in his chest isn't due to the fine art presented in front of him though. They all look so radiant, so deserving of this title...At this thought, he swallows painfully.

“Oh, they redid the mural.” he declares as he tries, desperately tries to stretch the corner of his mouth into a smile.

“Not a fan of street art, uh ?” Adam concludes, this time not fooled.

“Nah, we better hurry up anyways before gaffer notices we're late.”

Another painting, this time not in his mind, but in reality. The title “Disillusions” still seems fitting for it, he thinks as he can't help but almost run to their meeting point.

***

The rest of the day went on uneventfully after that, fortunately. Talks about tactics, about new trainings regimen and their new goals for 2019-2020 are discussed in length. He tries not to flinch every time their feat of the last season is mentioned and overall, he manages to look straight ahead of him and concentrates meticulously on every details written on the whiteboard behind Klopp.

He focus on that and doesn’t let his eyes wander to the one single person he’s promised himself he would not take notice. He doesn’t pay attention to the way Trent is sitting just four seats away of him around the circular table they all gathered by. He doesn’t notice the way Trent keeps his eyes resolutely downcasted. He certainly doesn't watch from the corner of his eyes they way Andy's hand never leaves his right shoulder and the concerned glances he keeps throwing at Trent.

No, he's blissfully unaware of all those small _insignificant_ details.

He has too much to think about, too much to plan and when their first day is over, he declines amicably his teammates offer to go eat at a restaurant.

And after a long scalding hot shower and a meal made of the leftovers his mother insisted he took with him after his last visit to their home, his head finally plunges on the soft material of his pillows. Sleep finds him easily as he enjoys being able to sprawl all over his bed without having to choose one side or another.

God, who is he trying to fool here ? He's a mess, he finally allows himself to think.

Of course, he would see Trent on their first day back in the club. Of course he knew he would but still, the lump in his throat doesn't go away no matter how many breathing and calming exercises he tries.

A part of him just wishes he could simply pour all his incomprehensions, all his dismay into resentment and anger at Trent for having ruined the one single achievement he had so far as a captain, for betraying his truth. But he can't.

He can't stop thinking about Trent and all the moments they spent together, the intimacy they shared and how he never was as content in his life than in his company. He can't help but still love him despite how he should have stopped two months ago.

***

He's roused awake the following morning by one of the brambling who established his nest in his garden. His loud and insistent chirping resonates in his room and it takes a few minutes for Jordan to realize it's because the bird is standing in the window sill next to his bed.

He watches the little animal twitches his head as his chest expands and contracts in rhythm with his chirping. In his half-conscious state, he wonders how at ease he would be, if his life was reduced to the one a brambling must lead. To spend his days seeking nothing but food to eat, water to drink and to create a safe nest with his partner...

Fortunately for him, he's startled from his cruel daydreaming by the high-pitched noise of his alarm clock and he pulls himself off the cover to prepare himself.

Today marks the beginning of their real training routine, of the preparation to enter into their new season with ease as they'll begin it with a few low-level friendlies.

After a hurried breakfast and a few dozens of minutes spent alone in the gym of their training grounds, he realizes that a few of his teammates have already gathered in the middle of the training ground and he hurries to join them. He catches up with Milner until the entire team is there and small groups are divided by different types of exercises and are scattered all over the field. Fortunately for him, he's told to put his endurance to test while running through a circuit with various obstacles to jump on.

He's now at his fifth laps when Dejan starts running by his side while looking at him with piercing eyes, yet not uttering a word.

“You want to say something to me Dejan ?”

“You smile everytime you think back about the winning the champion's league, uh ?”

“What are you talking about ?” he asks, puzzled by this question.

“Well, I was bored this morning while waiting for the physio to check-up on my thigh so I picked up one of the magazine and -”

“Fascinating story you're telling me there lad.” and instantly, he's met with a painful jab in his left side.

“- As I was saying, there was an article you gave to the PR team where you said that you couldn't stop smiling and I told myself, wow, must be a different Jordan Henderson, cause the one I know hasn't stopped brooding since yeste-”

“Come on Trent, you need to move faster. You can do better than that !!” the booming voice of the gaffer distracts him of Dejan and makes his head snaps in his direction.

Their gaffer has been supervising the reflexes and vivacity exercises and his clenched jaw can be seen even as far as he is from their group. How strange, he thinks, Trent always used to outperform almost everybody in this kind of exercise.

When his attention gets back to Dejan, he's watching him with eyes glinting with an understanding it didn't glow with before.

He could still tell Dejan how ludicrous it is coming from him to call anybody out on being grumpy or find any retort to distract him, but with Dejan, playing pretense never works. So he doesn't bother and his feet double up their speed, his teammate fortunately get the message and leave him be.

It seems the whole squad got it too, as he's mostly left unbothered during the entire day, except from a few meaningless talk with some of his teammates.

Another day goes uneventfully, only marked by how him and Trent tried their hardest to avoid each other and soon enough, he parks his car into his parking slot and the silence of his home welcomes him back.

Later when he's set himself to rest his muscles in the cold water of his swimming pool, he's surprised once again by the small brambling which definitely took an interest in him as he's tentatively approaching him.

The sharp chirps of the bird sends him back to a place and time it seems as forever disappeared : His lover nicely settled to his side, cuddled up to him during long lazy summer afternoon, enjoying each others close proximity while listening to the ambient and reassuring sounds of the nature surrounding them. Simply thinking back at this routine they had created between them makes his insides almost burn with the yearn to just go back, even for one second.

And what's even worse is that the irrational part of his mind can't stop thinking that if the bird's fluff wasn't brown, it could be the same brambling he met on his last evening in Russia with Trent.

At this thought, he lets out a small self-deprecating snort. He really can't stop his mind from going back to Trent, can't he ?

Yet, obsessed with the past as he is, he can barely understand about what in it lead to the state they both are in. Everytime he thinks about what Trent did during the Champion's league, he can't help but to feel his insides twist. He spoiled the very foundation of their sport, of his club's history by forcing his teammates and himself to use an elixir to enhance their performance.

And that's where lies the problem : Jordan knows Trent forced himself. It's the only explanation for his behavior weeks before the finale.

Trent had tried to hide it, to masquerade the way he clung to Jordan' side more than usual, how he tossed restlessly in their bed for weeks and how elsewhere in his mind he always used to be, his frowns always deepening wherever he was. At that time, Jordan had thought it was anxiety due to the finale approaching but now, when he rethink about it, Trent had the picture-book behavior of someone on the verge of having to do something monumental without wanting to.

And after the finale, he remembers how disorientated he felt when Trent inexplicably seemed to collapse on himself. He even remembers feeling bitter about it, he had fought so hard to bring his team and Trent, especially his beloved Trent, to victory and yet Trent acted like he was at his lowest.

Two months after those events, it almost makes him laugh to realize how clueless he was. He still is though because that's as far as his understanding can go. Because nobody forced Trent, yet he felt like he had no other choice otherwise Trent would have never done it for his own greed, for his own self-centered interest. This one truth is clear to him, yet it still make no sense to him. Why did Trent never talk with him about how he felt ? Did Jordan unknowingly make Trent believes he had no other alternative ? If that's the case, how ? Why ? When ?

No matter how many time his brain tries to assemble the pieces of this puzzle, he's left with too many pieces that do not fit with one another, with an overall picture he can't decipher.

Perhaps the only thing to perceive is precisely that : he never really understood him.

Maybe this impression of familiarity that surrounded Trent was nothing more than an illusion or a vivid dream.

He still remembers the way his own heart kept seizing him in the early days of their relationship, the ways they seemed to fit right into next to each other, despite their age difference. It indeed seemed like a reverie at that time. And then, when Trent explained him his lineage, what he was capable of, it all made so much sense to him. Of course, Trent wasn't just an exceptionable young man, he was so much more. How he thoughts himself lucky to be by the side of such exceptional being, how he aspired nothing more but to prove himself worthy of him !

Maybe that's where everything went wrong. Not when Trent committed the unthinkable, not when he started behaving inexplicably afterward. No, maybe it all went wrong when he allowed himself to believe for one second he could stand by Trent’ side. The magnetic pull he felt to Trent made him believe he could be his equal, despite their differences, despite Trent's fundamentally foreign nature.

Truly, there's indeed nothing to understand at all, he concludes as he closes his eyes to forget about the world for a second after watching the small brambling finally taking off from the ground.

***

Soon after that, when their first friendlies start, his gaffer asks of him to review the performance of the team. Meeting in the strangely small office of Klopp early in the morning when nobody else arrived yet is definitely something he missed. There, at least, he's sure to understand rightfully things : His role as a captain and as a link between his teammates and the coaching staffs is to drink every words coming out of Klopp's mouth. He feels in his element and almost like nothing changed, except how prominent his inability to focus for too long on what people tell him has grown to embarrassing degrees.

“- And if the fitness of the players coming back from injuries was only that !” his coach sighs while rubbing his own face with his hands “Georgino came back with an almost sprained wrist that he managed to get god knows how, James has been out with a cold and Trent…”

He lets out a shaky breath at that name, can't he catch a break for just one hour ?

“What's with Trent ?” he says as he hopes the tremor of his voice went unnoticed.

“Well...I don’t know frankly. My assistant looked into his stats during training and our first match and...If it were some of the other players I would say they're still in holiday in their mind, but this is Trent, you know ? I know he's trying his best and it worries me that currently it's the only thing he can do...”

“Uhm…I’m sure it’s only temporary and we’ll get him back fully soon.” he proposes, hoping it will vaguely reassures Klopp and that he’ll drop the topic.

“Well. I was hoping you could talk to him ? He looks up to you and maybe you could help him with whatever he's dealing with ?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Ah great ! One less thing to worry about !” Jurgen says as he claps his shoulder with his hand.

And Jordan, maybe for the first time in his career, ends up not following his coach's orders.

How could he when him and Trent have been playing a savant game of cat and mouse for so long ?

Talking to Trent, acting like a captain to him, as if they never were more than teammates and nothing happened over in the beginning of the summer, he can’t.

It’s too soon. He just need a little bit more time.

And so, training sessions pile up one after another and yet, even in close proximity, it seems like there’s always someone else than Trent to talk to, to sit next to and a part of him is convinced this little charade between them could go on forever.

They could play the entire season like that, never sitting on the same row during their plane or bus ride, never taking a seat at the same table when the team has a meal together, letting Virgil do the real talking to coordinate themselves when they play together.

But then, their game against Borussia Dortmund comes and with it, their first defeat of the preseason.

Losing 3-1 in a friendly isn't dramatic, yet everybody knows about the fears of the aftermath a club often has to deal with following a huge title like the one they secured last season. To avoid doubts and fears to spread like a wildfire, he's trying his best to cheer-up the mood in the locker-room by sharing his analysis of what they'll need to do and will do better next time. All of their teammates listen to him, except Trent who, as usual has his eyes downcasted.

At this sight, Jordan feels an electric discharge coursing his body. Maybe this defeat affected him more than he thoughts because suddenly, having to go through another day without Trent just looking at him make his blood boils.

“Listen to me when I speak to you !!” he exclaims with a tone far too angry for his own liking.

The result is instant as Trent's head snaps to his direction, his eyes wide opens as he inhales sharply, visibly not expecting for him to be called out by his captain.

“I- I'm listening.” Trent says.

“It's fine...I'm sorry..I...Just-” he croaks out “I think everybody is tired, let's call it a day, lads okay ? Don't over analyze this defeat, it's just a friendly game, alright ? Now we head back to our hotel, have a good night of rest and tomorrow we'll think about our next match, okay ?”

Most of his teammates respond with an affirmation and as soon as that, everybody resumes the packing of their bag, his small outburst already forgotten and effectively mistaken by tiredness. He too gathers his belongings and makes his way to his hotel room, except that unlike his teammates he has to pretend to not notice how shaky each steps he took was. Once he's inside, his feet lead him to the bathroom and there, he's faced with a version of himself he doesn't like at all in the reflection of a big mirror. The Jordan he sees there is tired to the bone, almost already defeated before their season really started. His reflection has an ex-lover who committed a morally reprehensible act, who disrespect his entire team, who lied to him and yet, the Jordan he sees can't help but worry about him, can't help but avoid him yet seek his stare. God, what's wrong with him ?

At this pathetic sight, he lets his frustration out by knocking over the small little soap bottles that rested on the counter next to him.

He hates how he can't bring himself to care a little bit more about being undeserving of the Champion's League title. This disillusion will always a bitter taste on his tongue but now...The more days pass, the more he realizes he does not really care at all anymore, not even a little bit when his mind is filled with melancholia at the thought of what they lost because of this competition. He just wants them to go back to the way they used to be together before everything went wrong. 

All of this simply because he met the stare of Trent for the first time since a few weeks. What a joke they both have become.

***

After three series of breathing exercises that only mildly helped in subduing the feeling of falling, falling and falling he couldn't shake himself off, he's decided to numb his brain by trying to understand the intricate rules of an obscure American reality show he switched his tv on. He was doing a pretty good job of it until he heard a soft knock on his hotel room's door two minutes ago.

“Yes ? “ he finally says when reaching the doorhandle after the knocks haven't ceased despite his unresponsiveness.

“I...uhm..Do you have a few minutes to talk ?” he hears and recognizes Andy's voice.

“Yes sure, enter.” he says as he opens the door wide open and shift himself to its left to leave some space for Andy to enter “You alright ? Your left ankle is still giving you trouble ?”

“No, no it's alright, the physio made me ice it a few minutes after the match and it's already fine...” Andy explains as he stays in the middle of the corridor “I-...I'm here because I know you never talked about it openly, but-” his teammate says while fumbling with the hems of his t-shirt nervously “Trent's my friend you know ? And recently he's....He's not talking about it, but the way you act together...I- I don't know what happened, but-”

“Yes, precisely, you don't know what happened !” he interrupts more forcefully than he would have liked but to be confronted like make him feels like he's soon going to suffocate “Listen, Andy. You're a good friend, I see that. But, this is something that doesn't concern you, alright ? So if you don't see any inconvenience, I suggest we both resume what we were doing before we had this discussion.”

“Alright, I didn't mean to disturb you. I was just worried about Trent and I wanted to see if-”

“I'm sure you were. See you tomorrow Andy.” he declares while returning on his bed and putting the volume of the television up “You can close the door now ?”

From the corner of his eyes, he sees Andy's figure, still unmoving and unresponding in the threshold of his room.

“Andy ?”

“I'm afraid.”

“What ?”

“I'm afraid for Trent, not worried and you should be too.” he says before effectively closing the door.

He should be too, Andy's last words, ice-cold as they were, resonates in his mind like an echo.

Minutes pass with only the sound of the television filling up the room and all he can think is about how Trent's closest friend decided to seek him out . The implication behind the desperation of Andy's gesture manages to shake him to the core. He really can't play the ostrich anymore, can't he ?

Of course he's been worried too. He has been the minute he saw him once again after they parted ways abruptly on this summer night.

And if the obnoxious sounds of the screaming match the two reality stars have on the tv is loud enough to mask the sound of his own head, he can maybe admit he's been worried about Trent for far longer than that.

He's been worried about him since the very first day Trent joined Liverpool's First Team. At first, it was overprotectiveness for his obvious youth, his innocence in the midst of the harshness of the Premier League. Then, as they grew closer, it was protection for the world they had built together that he seeked. He had yearned for it to resolves around them : Listening Trent as he unveiled to him the countless secrets of his kind, playing football together and spending time in the warmth of each others arms was all he wanted. And maybe, all he still want even today.

Perhaps it's the very reason that leads him to feel like the only way to recenter himself and to escape from all his worries about what the future could hold for him is to do breathing exercisse. Cardiac coherence methods, people call it....If he was in the mood to joke, he would certainly find it funny how he has to physically imposes coherency on himself when he has none in his life.

But he hasn’t been in a humorous mood for weeks and it can't go any longer than that.

His heart won't hold or it's Trent himself who will foil. So, for the sake of his own well-being, for Trent and for the rest of the club, he has to at least try to ease back in his interactions with Trent until they are both ready to address the issues they've been avoiding for too long.

It's for this resolution that he's particularly satisfied for his gaffer's insistence to make them take their breakfast all together before matches. It's an intelligent team-bonding ritual and even more so a perfect setting to interact again with Trent the morning that follows Andy's intervention. He almost feels like on a mission, evaluating the best course of action he could take, which surroundings would prove to be the safest and on his way to the table where Trent and Andy are, he hopes his target will not be intimidated by his approach.

“Come on, you only ate like one half of a toast and an apple ! We've got training in two hours !” he hears Andy ushering to Trent as he comes close to their table.

“The hotel's food not sitting well with you, Trent ?” he tries to joke as he pretends to concentrate on settling his meal next to Andy who then tries his best, bless him, to make small talk with him, pretending that Jordan's feeble attempt at interacting with his friend was perfectly usual.

He pretends too, that everything is perfectly normal : he laughs amicably at every jokes Andy tries to crack in an effort to ease them in the conversation, he comments on Dejan's sleepiness when he joins them at the table and makes sure to look amused by the exaggerated spite crossing his teammate's face. He eats his meal as if his stomach wasn't knotted due to the dozens of things he want to say to Trent except the superficial and impersonal words they are all currently exchanging at their table.

After a hour their coach ushers them back to training and even if Trent's barely looked at him and only answered to him in monosyllabic answers during their time together, it feels like a step in a good direction, one he's glad he took.

***

Time passes. Someday he feels like he can barely keep up the facade he's built when pretending to be nothing but a coworker to his ex-lover and someday it's Trent who looks like he wants to bolt away whenever he sees him. But they're on speaking terms, civil and pleasant to each other so it's alright.

To speak to Trent, even if they only talk about familiar and mundane subjects seems to alleviate the pressure weighting on him. It feels like he can breath just a little more freely and he lets his first genuine laugh out in a while shortly after. The dynamic in the team changes too. Before, it seemed like everybody was trying to accommodate as best as possible their little game of cat and mouse and now, it feels like it's the opposite. Any occasion they've got, suddenly Jordan must be paired with Trent for stretching exercises, for meals, for bus rides and for thousands of other things.

All of this lit a fire into Jordan's heart. It feels like if he wanted, he could take Trent's lips into his own in the middle of the training and they could fall back instantly into their old habits and everyone would be cheering around them.

Trent wants that too, judging by the glint that often shines in his eyes when they are side by side. But they aren't ready and Jordan feels like they could on like that forever, both relearning how to be next to each others without being lovers and yet, no progress would be really made between them.

And to think that not long ago they were playing cat and mouse and now the rules have changed. He wonders when they will be able to stop playing games and start confronting themselves to their reality.

***

The answer to this questions is, surprisingly, very soon.

It all started as Dejan and Mo got into a heated argument about who was the best at ping-pong. Dejan, his usual grumpy self, had refused to admit his lack of skills until Mo posted about it on his instagram. It then transformed into a full-blown tournament involving almost half the squad and spanning over weeks with a counting system no one but Mohammed understood.

With the end of their preseason approaching, they decide to make a grand final on their last day in Switzerland. The stakes feels ridiculously high for nothing, one of the physiotherapist even started eying them disapprovingly everytime their mentioned their little game as if already afraid one of them could take the game too seriously and hurt themselves. However, the ambiance on the final day is good-natured and the room they play in is filled with chorus of cheering and laughters. His heart feels light with insouciance and on the back of his mind, he's glad to see how his teammates and him have grown into a strange yet functional family.

The results are quite satisfying too : So far, he had managed to win almost all the games against his opponents.

“Now let's get into 2 v 2 !” suggests Mo after the 3rd games in a row he's taken (and won) against him “Dejan you play with me and Trent come join Jordan instead of looking all broody over here.”

“No, I think I'm alright, I'm tired anyways.” Trent says.

“It's alright Trent, I need a partner anyways.” Jordan says in the most reassuring tone he can conjure up.

“Yes Trent, we need to play in team ! Teams are very important !” Dejan suddenly exclaimed, almost dragging Trent by both shoulders and planting a ping-pong racket in his hand.

And Jordan can’t help but be hyper-aware of Trent’s body standing barely a feet away of him. It’s maybe the closest he’s been to him for too many weeks.

He's almost convinced Mo and Dejan let them win a few point when they start the match, taking pity in their obvious awkwardness at being so close to one another. Slowly but surely, they let themselves carried away by their competitiveness and the cheers of their teammates. Then, Trent manages to score the winning point and joined by Andy, they celebrates exaggeratedly by doing a embarrassing dance routine under the complaints of their opponents.

“Hey piss off guys, that doesn't count! The last point was cheating, the ball touched the table two times on your side Trent !” exclaims Dejan.

At these words, Jordan gasps and he feels Trent freezing “I-I didn’t cheat. I- I’m really tired…I’ll just go.” Trent says hastily, any trace of the smile he wore on his face long gone “I think it's enough for me guys, I'm gonna head back in my room.”

And just like that, the atmosphere, jovial a moment ago, turns cold. Only the sound of Trent's hurried steps can be heard as he makes his exit.

“Did he say something he shouldn't have ?” asks Mo.

“Come on Jordan” says Dejan to extirpate him for his stupor while raising his hands in the air “Your boy's been unable to take any jab without looking on the verge of crying, can’t you just talk it out ?”

“He's not my boy and-”

“Jordan. Go.” Virgil simply says, looking at him firmly in the eyes, expression impassible.

Combined with the stares of almost everyone else on him, he decides to surrender. They are right, they can't go on eternally like this. Not if they want to avoid one of them burning out in the process. Talking to Trent to avoid that, it won't be different than when they make small talk, right ? They'll just speak about what's going on between them, about...About too many other things that make him almost dizzy and that all the meditation exercises he's come to learn about over the past months won't solve.

“Hi, Tre-” at the sound of his voice, Trent suddenly hides himself from the threshold.

“Jordan !” he croaks out “I thought you were Andy !”

“Can I enter ?”

“I-...No, I need to go to sleep.” Trent answers as he looks ready to close the door at Jordan's nose.

“Trent” he sighs “We need to talk, let me enter.”

When he does let him enter, he notices the room is dark, its every curtains are closed. A sight so uncharacteristic for Trent who used to complain about how he hated nothing more than being cut off from Nature's when the direct light of the sun couldn't penetrate in a room.

“The boys are worried about your behaviour, you know ?” he declares as he notices Trent seems decided in leaving a good 3 meters of distance between them “Trent, come sit next to me, please.”

Exceedingly slowly, Trent complies with his request and sit carefully by his right “I'm not here to scold you or to shout at you.” Jordan reassures as he keeps his eyes downcast to give him strength for the next words he'll utter “I-...I think I want it to stop just like everyone else in the club, you know ? I thought that we just needed time some time apart, to relearn how to behave around each other as teammates and to put the champion's league behind us. But, it's not working...It won't work until we're both clear on what's to come. You...You behave like you want more, like you're waiting for me to allow you back in and-”

“You don't want it too ?” Trent asks as a shiver visibly shakes his body.

“I do too, but- I think we need to stop hoping for that moment, we both need to focus back on football, especially you. We can't afford to be so absorbed about ourselves.”

“Can't we...Can't we just go back to the way things before ?” Trent sniffles “If we both want it ?”

“No. not now. I think we need to relearn how to be simple teammates for a while. We need to grow apart for a little bit, alright ?”

When he looks at Trent, he notices that silent tears have started marring his face “Hey, hey love” he whispers while taking Trent's shaking hands into his “I'm not saying we won't ever be back together. I'm saying we need time.”

At this nickname, Trent's head snapped back to him and he's now facing him with those big round eyes he likes so much and yet, the tears pooling in his eyes make him want to look anywhere else. “But how much time ?” Trent asks, almost petulant.

“I don't know. As much time as we'll both need. Maybe in one month, maybe when you'll be yourself captain of the team and you'll lift your first trophy as such. Time only will tell.” he says while enveloping Trent into a bone-crushing hug and giving him back-rub in the hope it'll calm his sobs.

Yes, time only will tell and meanwhile, Jordan's sure he'll learn to not depend anymore on calming exercises to go through his days. Trent will slowly but surely turn back into the man he admired so much : brilliant and inspiring everybody as he goes. And then, only then, Jordan's convinced they'll be able to become once again lovers.

It maybe won't happen today, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not in years.

But it will, _one day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a lot of bits of this chapter I hated writing and small tiny paragraphs I enjoyed writing, but overall I didn't really enjoy writing it. I think the emotions I like writing the best are nostalgia, longing or just people getting lost into each other. I mean, I only started liking re-reading this chapter when I added paragraphs about Jordan thinking back about his days with Trent. Next fic is gonna be purely self-indulgent and it's gonna be an OS. Maybe some Dybala/Buffon (some steamy reunion in juventus ?hhhhmmmmm)...


End file.
